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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30035676">Call for Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sternenstaub/pseuds/Sternenstaub'>Sternenstaub</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bring your witcher to work, First Dates, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, No Beta, Student Lambert, call centers, romcom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:41:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,930</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30035676</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sternenstaub/pseuds/Sternenstaub</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lambert is working part time in a call center, while hating his job, staring at his beautiful colleague certainly makes up for some of it. Maybe he'll have the heart to ask him out some day.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bring your witcher to work!</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This started as a short idea, now I have a second chapter already finished and a third might follow.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>„How dare you tell me the next available spot is next Tuesday? How am I supposed to survive this weekend without the internet? Does your fucking company not care about their customers at all? I`ll complain about your service! And then we`ll see if you’re still all high and mighty! Customer service, my ass! You all are good for nothings, not caring a bit about hard working people“</p><p>„Yes, Sir, I apologize. We truly don`t have an earlier spot available. The cable is broken in your street, we need to replace a part of it.“<br/>
The man in Lambert`s ear continued shouting and insulting him but Lambert didn`t listen anymore. He watched his Co-Worker making faces next to him, the walls of their tiny cubicles not enough to separate them fully from each other. Aiden sat leaned back in his chair, twirling with the cord of his headset and rolling his eyes so hard Lambert thought they might fall out of his head, mouthing back insults he would never be allowed to say out loud. </p><p>The customer on his line was apparently just as angry as Lambert`s, most of them were, really. When you worked in the first row of a call center for the biggest internet provider in the country, people called you when their internet broke down and none of them were happy about it. And this week was the biggest game of some soccer team or something, Lambert didn`t really care, but the people did. Without the internet most had no TV connection as well and they were fuming. Imagine missing seeing a sweaty, overpaid guy kicking a leather ball in a goal, the horror.</p><p>The man on the other side of the call had finally stopped shouting and Lambert wrote down the date and time the technician would hopefully arrive. Many didn`t, arriving late or not at all on that day and then Lambert would be the one to get shouted at again, not the technician who didn`t do their damned job.</p><p>Aiden was still in his call when Lambert could finally hang up, taking a deep breath before the next caller would blame him for every single thing he couldn't do a thing about. He hated this job, hated the people and the manager watching their back, listening in on the calls to make sure they didn't say anything not on the script. How dare anyone think for themself if you can follow neat sentences tailored perfectly for your job. </p><p>The managers who forbid them from having phones on the table, citing data security concerns and not allowing them to read because they were worried their workers wouldn't properly concentrate on those of so complicated tailored sentences they repeated all day.<br/>
Lambert was bored, wishing he could read the group chat with his brothers, Geralt and Eskel had just started philosophizing about the question of whether people with wooden toilet seats had their life in better order than people with plastic seats. </p><p>If only he didn't need that laptop so much. University was all fine and good, with student payments and low interest loans, until you noticed the library books were out of date by five years, the money they allotted for rent had been calculated ten years ago and PCs were available three times a week between 10:00 and 14:00. A laptop was truly necessary if he ever wanted to finish his essays on time, wanted to be successful in law school. </p><p>Wistfully Lambert stared out the window, the weather was just warm enough to wear short sleeves but not too warm to walk around yet and risking sunburn on his stupid sensitive skin, never getting a tan. Aiden was already wearing summer gear, being one of those guys that never seemed to get cold. He gestured at the screen in front of him, making faces and signing rude things while his voice stayed perfectly even in the line. Lambert liked to watch him during his breaks. For one there was nothing else to do. The other reason was you could see a hint of muscle bulging under the short sleeves of the ratty band shirt his colleague wore, his skin a warm chestnut color sprinkled with small scars and freckles. He had black curly hair that was always falling into one of his eyes, no matter how often he tried to tame it, so last week Aiden had started wearing butterfly clips to keep his hair out of his face. Today's clip was blue and glittered and Lambert had never seen anything so funny and adorable in all his life. Not that he'd ever admit that, no, officially he was staring out of the window and not at his unfairly attractive colleague. Maybe he'd have the courage to ask Aiden or for a drink one day. It just never seemed to be the right time. Either their shifts didn't align or Geralt and Eskel needed him or there was homework to complete. Working and studying was stressful, as much as he wanted it, Lambert simply didn't know how to add a dating life to that without messing up something else. And he was good at messing up, had almost flunked school before Vesemir had a long talk with him, something Lambert had not been expecting from an adult at that time, especially not from his latest foster parent. Instead of a punishment, Vesemir sat down with him and made sure Lambert studied and did his homework. Suddenly school had been almost fun.<br/>
Lambert had messed up many more times after that but he at least had known Vesemir to have his back. He didn't want to ignore or disappoint the family that had found him and made his life so much better. </p><p>Dark brown eyes looked directly at him when Lambert returned from his day dreaming, a smirk on lips that looked just so soft and kind.<br/>
„Like what you see?“ Aiden asked, raising an eyebrow. But there was no mockery in his voice, just a lilt that almost sounded flirty.<br/>
Lambert blushed and his first reaction was to curse and shove Aiden away, to act like nothing had ever happened, like he didn't want this man's attention, didn't want to drown in these warm brown eyes that watched him like he was something special.</p><p>„Not better than what I see in the mirror.“ Lambert shot back instead and felt his stomach coil with pleasure when Aiden laughed. The crinkles around the man`s eyes and that stupid blue hair clip bobbing around made Lambert wish he could burn this oh so mundane moment into his memory. Surrounded by overworked and underpaid co-workers, the air full of the negativity that was thrown at them all day and here he was, sitting in a small bubble of light, just because a man he had only talked with fleetingly, laughed at one of his poorer jokes. "Not going to disagree there, handsome." Aiden answered. </p><p>Before they could talk more, the manager stood behind them with crossed arms over their chest. A 30 something bachelor of something that had landed them as team leader in a call center. Unhappy with their life but hell bent on climbing whatever promotion ladder this company could offer. „No talking, get to your lines.“ they ordered, not even sparing them a second glance before they prowled away to their next victim, an older woman earning a few Euro extra in her retirement who had started knitting while she handled her calls. Lambert rolled his eyes, that woman could handle three angry customers and knit him a scarf with matching mittens at the same time, but no, the company policy said no distractions in the workplace unless you were on break.</p><p>He looked at Aiden, who winked at him cheekily but turned obediently around to take the next call, to have the next angry customer vent all their problems on a poor unsuspecting, well, not really, they all suspected every caller of shouting at them at this point, call center agent. Lambert did the same, counting the minutes and calls he had to take until he could go home.</p><p>To his disappointment Aiden`s shift seemed to be over before his and the man left while Lambert was in a call that just wouldn't end. The lady was sweet enough and it was nice not having to calm her, but she just wouldn't. stop. talking. Aiden had looked at him for a second before he left, clearly recognizing a call that would take something closer to 20 minutes than two. Lambert felt crushed, and here he had been intent on finally asking the man for a drink after work.</p><p>The lady finally hung up and Lambert looked at the digital clock on his work PC. 15 minutes overtime, which meant he`d get paid more but also that he was late for dinner with Eskel and Geralt, both brothers insistent on waiting for him until they ate.<br/>
Quickly he shoved the water bottle on his desk into his bag and almost missed a small piece of paper sitting under it. With a frown he took it, they were not supposed to make notes during work, data security once again. </p><p>On it was a number written in a tiny scrawl and a winking smiley next to it. It was so utterly old fashioned and rom-com like that Lambert would have hated it, should have thought it to be pretentious to be expected to call, to be left a number without a word. But in truth he felt excited, finally he would be able to contact Aiden without their manager breathing down their necks. He took the paper and put it into his pocket, rushing out to get the last bus home, where his brothers waited. His phone battery had died, of course it had, Lambert cursed the little bit of metal and plastic to help and back when he tried to save Aiden's on his way home. In the end, he shoved the paper with the number into his pockets again and vowed to get a phone with a battery that had a longer life than the average moth. </p><p>That evening they talked and played scrabble until Lambert fell asleep on the table from exhaustion, Eskel ushering him to his room while Geralt cleaned up the kitchen. The scrap of paper in Lambert`s pocket was all but forgotten.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wel, the most embarrassing thing happened and I left a placeholder in the last chapter. I triedto do better this time with proofreading XD<br/>One more chapter and we're done.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>~A phone, plugged in and next to the pillow waited all night without buzzing. The next morning it's owner looked at it with a sad smile before going to work.~</p><p>When Lambert woke up, it was almost noon and he had a headache from falling asleep too late and sleeping half the day away. He felt absolutely parched, grabbed the first pair of jeans available to him and walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water without bothering with a shirt. Lambert rarely did, to Geralt's and Eskel's never-ending mortification. </p><p>With sleep clumsy hands he filled the glass, looking at the half cleaned kitchen with a frown, Geralt hadn't done a very good job yesterday, now Lambert would have to clean that mess up, or leave it for Eskel, if he thought the scolding was worth not cleaning up after Geralt. </p><p>While he watched the tower of dirty pans groan in the wind, the glass in front of him toppled over, of course it did, Lambert was only partly coherent and felt hungover without having touched a drop of alcohol the night before, sleep deprivation was a bitch and the feeling of sleeping too much after a week of studying and then working late was almost as bad. <br/>Half asleep and surprised by the sudden attack from his beverage, Lambert tried to grab the first thing he could find to wipe the water away with, just to find out there were no towels left, fucking Geralt, always doing laundry without putting new towels back, so he went searching for a tissue in his trousers, while the water started dropping on the floor, and grabbed something that felt suitable. Only after it was soaked through and blue ink oozed through the white did Lambert remember what he had in his pocket. A hearty „Fuck!“ and a mad rush to the hair dryer to save what could be saved later, Lambert looked at the mangled piece of paper sadly. Three numbers were barely visible anymore but the rest could be guessed at least.</p><p>With shaking fingers he tipped in the number, typing and retyping the three numbers he had almost erased. Was that a 3 or an 8? A 7 or a 2? In the end Lambert just hoped for the best and saved the number, hoping his messaging app would find an account with a proper profile picture and not come up with a random number. What would he do if the profile had only like a sunset attached? Or worse, was the wrong person entirely? Aiden didn`t seem like a sunset profile pic type of guy, he would more likely have something cute or his actual face set to his account.</p><p>The first number had no accounts matching but the second try, it had been a 2 not a 7, gave the desired result, a profile with the name Aide&lt;3 attached and an adorably fuzzy cat picture. The cat wore the same blue hair clip Aden had worn at work, so Lambert was relatively sure to have gotten the right account. <br/>With his heart beating in his throat, he texted a short „Hi“, cursing at himself right after sending it. He should have been smoother, funnier, more eloquent. Anything would have been better than „Hi“. Not even an emoji was in there. </p><p>Then it hit him like a truck. Fucking idiot that he was, he hadn't even entered his name and for the group chat with his brothers his account was still named fuckboy22. Aiden would think a frigging sex bot was writing him. He'd surely block the strange number and never look back. </p><p>Lambert's phone didn't react for some time, for so long he gave up that someone would respond. After 15 minutes he stopped staring at the screen and the small double ticks that showed Aiden, hopefully it really was his Aiden, had received the message. Maybe he truly thought the message was from a sex bot. Should Lambert write again or would that make it worse?<br/>Or he was busy, or maybe he was one of the people who only looked at their phone every few days to answer messages (how could they stand not knowing what people wanted?) or maybe, and Lambert worried about that the most, Aiden was angry at him for taking so long, for playing hard to get. </p><p>With a feeling of disappointment in his stomach, Lambert finally went looking for clothes and started to prepare lunch. Today was his day off, which meant he was on cooking duty and had to clean the kitchen. If his brothers came home and he was running without a shirt and they all ended up without dinner, they'd make him clean the bathroom for a week again. </p><p>Cooking was actually an activity Lambert enjoyed. Ignoring the pile of dirty dishes for now, he started chopping vegetables and meat. He liked the meditative kind of state his mind went to, to dice and chop into even pieces, to create something from scratch that made people happy. He was lost in his work and didn't notice he spent two hours cooking. The buzz of his phone went unnoticed as well. </p><p>The food was cooking and Lambert looked at the kitchen that was even messier now. With an almost guilty feeling and a shrug, he turned around and left the kitchen. He would just claim he had forgotten to do the dishes. He flopped down on the couch, zapping through Netflix, when he noticed the small notification symbol on his phone. "Aiden?" had answered. </p><p>"is this a bot? If you're a bot, can i get a free pizza coupon before you sell my soul?" <br/>After five minutes without an answer there was another message, "not a bot then, would have replied straight away. Lamby, is that you?" <br/>Lambert felt his face turn scarlet at the nickname and was glad he was alone, they barely knew each other and Aiden had already given him a nickname? </p><p>This time he wouldn't be boring and basic, this time he'd be funny and smooth, Lambert decided.<br/>"Thank you for subscribing to our pizza service. Fresh pizza every day for just 12€! Since you're the 500th subscriber today, you won a free pizza!" <br/>The reply came promptly. <br/>"Awesome! Where can I claim my prize?" </p><p>Suddenly Lambert realized that this could be read as the invitation to a date, that Aiden might think Lambert had just asked him for a pizza date. Did Aiden even date guys? They had joked about it but what if Lambert had read him wrong? <br/>Well, Lambert wasn't one to shy away from a potentially awkward meeting. Worst case, he'd have pizza. </p><p>So he texted Aiden a place and time, deciding he'd just not be at home when Geralt and Eskel saw the mess in the kitchen, and signed the message with a lamb emoji. Then he took his jacket, the nice biker one, made sure his hair looked as presentable as it could get, and left the house. <br/>His stomach felt like it was full of butterflies.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Btw, I'm basing this on my own experiences as a student, so it might be slightly out of date.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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